I mask the shadows under my eyes with coal.
I hide the paleness of my face under chalk.
I turn my broken movements into Butoh.
I’d gotten a pirate version of my life.
My being is counterfeit.
I’m a bug…
You look at me with unreserved admiration. You love my speaking glance, my noble pallor and my grotesque dance. You don’t know that it’s not a performance. You can’t guess that it’s my life. By the way… I keep the installation file still.
Do you want to try it?
by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014
unbolt me 
Reblogged this on Orthometry.
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Nice choice! 🙂
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Almost sounds like commentary about politics. (And gender, and the economy, and…. )
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It could very well be taken that way, I think. 😉
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Dancing and Dogs (and “two left feet”): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yeifMjqpsg0
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Your poem as intriguing as the performance. https://grieflessons.wordpress.com/2015/03/30/my-brilliant-careet-how-i-found-my-proper-place-in-film-and-tv/
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Thank you, Judy ❤
I'm happy that you liked my awkward essay!
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Life can be a mad, merry dance, that’s for sure. Butoh is just an honest and artistic representation of that. 🙂
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I guess it’s not only about life. It’s about everything.
Everything can be danced… there are no borders. Only a talent of the dancer.
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And there are different kinds of dancing too. I dance with the art of illustrating. You dance with the art of writing. 🙂
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You dance with words not worse than I, my dear modest friend 😉
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